


Voyager

by In_Dreams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Battle of Hogwarts, F/M, Heartbreak, Hogwarts, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-28
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-07-18 13:13:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16119203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_Dreams/pseuds/In_Dreams
Summary: Five years ago, Hermione left behind her life in England and all the painful memories that lingered with it. But the secrets of our youth have a tendency to stay with us.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Hello. Thanks for checking out Voyager. The idea for this story originated out of a line from  _The Lion King_ ; more specifically, the song "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". I hope you like it.

This story is written as a birthday gift to a dear reader and friend, mhcalamas. I tried to write something fluffy and I swear this wasn't meant to be the pit of angst it became, but it seems that's what came from my heart and I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Thank you to both Kyonomiko and Mykesprit for alpha help with this fic – it needed it.

**Disclaimer:**  I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I own The Lion King or any of its intellectual property.

* * *

**June, 2003**

Hermione Granger set aside  _Mágico Málaga_  – the local post of the magical community of the province of Malaga in Spain – and spared a brief glance at the copy of  _The Daily Prophet_  that lay beneath it.

Even after five years in the Andalusian town of Ronda, Hermione was hesitant to cancel her subscription of Wizarding Britain's post. It was a small reminder of home – and one way in which she was able to keep up with the goings on in the magical community from which she had run almost five years ago.

She took a quick breath before glancing at the front page – and felt the breath catch as her heart leapt into her throat.

A set of pale grey eyes stared out at her from the cover – framing a strong nose, set within an aristocratic face – and a pair of lips curved into a smirk.

Hermione realized her hands were trembling and she steeled herself with a long sip of hot tea.

_Former Death Eater Released from Azkaban_

The headline blared Draco Malfoy's freedom – imprisoned since he had been barely eighteen. Despite the best counsel galleons could buy for his trial – and Hermione working tirelessly on his case in private – Draco Malfoy had been the Ministry's way of making an example.

Even though Malfoy had been young and forced into servitude under duress, the Wizengamot had been committed to their cause of locking up anyone even remotely connected to Lord Voldemort.

The young man hadn't stood a chance.

But now…

Hermione wondered what the first breath of fresh, free air had felt like. Wondered whether he would be going about establishing his name once again. With Lucius Malfoy locked away on a life sentence, Draco would be in charge of the estate, now.

Hermione did her best to push the thoughts away, but the next swallow of her tea was thick and uneasy.

Something twinged in her chest – something she had all but forgotten over the years since she had left London. Something she had been able to tuck into a dark corner of her heart, and had slipped into a state of numbness.

Her gaze flickered across the photo once more; there was no warmth in those grey eyes, in the harsh set of his jaw.

She wondered what Azkaban had done to the former Slytherin who had ended up drowning with no way out. Who had ultimately come to wish for any other way.

She traced the date at the top of the page with gentle fingertips:  _5 June, 2003._ Her fingers drifted down the page to land on the eyes she knew so well.

Hermione whispered to herself, "Happy birthday, Draco."

* * *

**January, 1996**

It had to be  _that_  day. The only day in two and a half years when Hermione had shown up late for Ancient Runes – and all because Ron had spilled pumpkin juice  _inside_  her book bag at the end of lunch. If Hermione hadn't been so quick to empty the belongings from her bag, she might have seen irreparable damage to many of her class texts  _and_  two completed essays.

Of all the inconvenient things.

Hermione frowned as she slipped into the room, pressing the door shut with care, and sneaking to her seat while Professor Babbling was still faced away from the door.

She ignored the stern look Malfoy cast her from the other side of the room and drew a roll of parchment and a quill from her bag as quietly as she could manage.

"Miss Granger," Professor Babbling said as she turned, a pleasant smile on her face. "How nice of you to join us. However, Ancient Runes began ten minutes ago, and as such, it'll be ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but slammed it again; Professor Babbling wasn't the type to care for excuses.

Instead she sunk into her seat with a sheepish nod and uncorked her inkwell. She ignored the snickers from the Slytherins across the way.

"As we have just finished pairing off into a team project, I'll have to ask your partner to explain the assignment to you," Professor Babbling concluded, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she returned to the content she was writing on the board. "You will be working on this project for the duration of the next four weeks."

Hermione looked around, and it became apparent the room was in fact partnered off. Except for Malfoy, whose glare of loathing was now burning a hole in her skull. She swallowed, a sudden lump in her stomach filling her with unease.

"Professor, I'd sooner work alone," Malfoy drawled, one elbow resting on the table as his lip curled with disdain.

"Same," Hermione said, her gaze flickering to Malfoy and away. "I'm fine to work on my own."

"Nonsense," Professor Babbling contradicted, her tone brusque. "You'll work together; it will do you both good. And Merlin knows we could stand to see a little less animosity in this school this year!"

Hermione grimaced, even as everything within her protested the thought of speaking to Malfoy on an academic level. Perhaps she would simply tell him she would do the entire assignment.

"And you will divide your work  _evenly_!" Babbling exclaimed, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. "If I receive submissions where it is clear only one person did the work, they will be graded as incomplete."

Hermione sighed and sunk deeper into her seat. Malfoy looked like he might be ill.

"Now!" Professor Babbling said, turning back to the class with a smile. "Move to sit with your partners, please. We will begin shortly!"

Groaning, Hermione glanced across the room at Malfoy, who was ignoring her as he examined his nails. At his table, Nott and Zabini shifted to one end, leaving the seat beside Malfoy open. Shoving the cork into her inkwell harder than necessary, Hermione collected her things and moved into the seat beside him.

_She_  wasn't going to allow herself to fail this assignment, miserable git of a partner or not.

Malfoy made a show of sliding his seat along the stone floor to increase the distance between them, his grey eyes narrowed and a nasty sneer on his lips.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, drawing her  _Spellman's Syllabary_  from her bag.

He slid his parchment further away from her so that he had to reach across his body to write anything.

"Would you grow up?" Hermione hissed, clenching her jaw at his immaturity. "I'm not going to  _infect_  you with my blood."

"One can never be too cautious," Malfoy drawled, tossing his hair out of his face. He continued to look affronted while he sketched the assignment onto a sheet of parchment, as if Hermione had  _forced_  him to work with her. "I'll do the first half, you'll do the second half. And kindly don't get the translations wrong."

"I  _won't_  get them wrong," she snapped.

"I would like to see you work as a team together on this assignment!" Babbling broke into the general chatter once more. "That means  _together_ , and not split in half! Trust me – I will be able to tell."

Hermione fumed; it was as if Babbling were actually reading her thoughts.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and released an exaggerated huff from within his throat, tossing his head over the back of his chair. Hermione thought she heard him mutter, "What a bloody nightmare."

"This isn't ideal for me either, you know," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Just – don't speak to me Granger. Unless it's absolutely necessary." Malfoy shook his head, mutiny in his eyes. "And here's a hint: it'll never be absolutely necessary."

"Bleeding git." Hermione rolled her eyes and began working on the translations.

* * *

"We aren't going to complete this project in time," Hermione mentioned as she chewed on her sugar quill. "Not unless we work on it outside of class time."

It had been two weeks – half of their allotted time for the Ancient Runes project – and at Malfoy's insistence they not devote any of their evenings to completing the complex translations, they were only a third of the way through.

"You can work on your half outside of class time," Malfoy sneered, his gaze fixed on his work.

"Professor Babbling said we need to work together –"

"Yes, well fuck Professor Babbling."

Hermione gave him a sharp glare; the woman was only three tables away.

"I am not giving up any of my free time to spend with you, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "And besides, I have Quidditch in the evenings."

"Not  _every_  evening," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "There are three other teams that need to use the pitch. Surely you can spare one or two evenings a week."

"Sod your bloody swotty arse, Granger –"

"Everything going well here?" Professor Babbling asked, sweeping in between them. Malfoy's mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth. Her sharp gaze swept across their work. "You are aware this project is due to be completed in two weeks?"

"We're aware, yes," Hermione said, fixing her best attempt at a smile. Babbling raised an eyebrow.

"If you two made an attempt to get along, you'd spend less time arguing and more time translating," Babbling said, tutting at the pair of them. "I am going to suggest you invest some time in the library together if you expect to see a passing grade."

Malfoy folded his arms, his jaw tight.

"Tuesday," he snapped, once Professor Babbling had carried on.

"I can't do Tuesday." Hermione had a DA meeting, and she would be damned if she let Malfoy interfere with that. "Wednesday."

"Wednesday I have Quidditch."

"Thursday, then."

"Thursday is no good."

"Friday!"

"Honestly, Granger, I'm not spending Friday night with you!" Malfoy exclaimed, shaking his head. "If you're that fucking hard up for a date –"

"Do  _not_  finish that sentence," Hermione hissed. "Thursday, or Friday, or you'll be failing."

Malfoy fumed, glaring at a spot on the table. "Thursday. Seven o'clock."

"Fine." Hermione tossed her hair to one side so that it created a curtain whereby she couldn't see his stupid, snide face.

* * *

Malfoy dropped into the seat across from hers, ignoring her with determination while he pulled his class materials from his bag and set to work. He glared around the library but didn't say anything. Hermione had selected this area of the library because there were rarely any other students so far back – she didn't want to be seen working with him either.

"Malfoy, do you –" Hermione began, but scoffed when he held up a hand to silence her.

He drew a sheet of parchment towards him and scrawled a message onto it, before sliding it across the table at her.

_I have a headache. Don't make it worse with your obnoxious voice._

Hermione pressed her lips together and fought the urge to stab his hand – spread flat and inviting on the table – with her quill.

She wrote him a message, wishing she didn't have to ask him anything, but knowing he would blame her if the wrong rune was submitted.

_I can't tell whether the fourth rune in line twelve of page thirty-five is lantern or cave._

Malfoy let out a long, annoyed breath, as if he were entirely inconvenienced, but flipped his assignment package to page thirty-five. He scanned the page, his gaze flickering to his  _Syllabary_.

_It's cave. A cave by torchlight._

He took the sheet back before she could finish reading it.

_The third vertical line on the left-hand side is the discrepancy that's confused you. 'Cave' alone doesn't have that line._

Hermione stared at him once she had read his addition, blinking. Instead of taking the opportunity to mock her for not knowing the answer, he had explained his reasoning.

Feeling her gaze on him, he glanced up. He shrugged and scowled and dropped his head back down.

Hermione scribbled a small  _Thank you_  on the sheet of parchment. He glanced at it, his brows high on his forehead, before folding it up and tucking it into his bag.

She returned to her translations.

* * *

"I'm telling you, that rune means  _sound_ , or more specifically  _music_." He glared at her, pointing at the page.

"It actually means footsteps," Hermione said, grinding her sugar quill between her back teeth as she considered the rune. "It's a more specific variant of sound."

"It does not mean footst–"

She stabbed at the translation. "Your usage of music is archaic. It's missing the intersecting dome through the centre."

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut as his line of sight followed the rune to which she pointed.

"Well, fuck."

"Silence!" Madam Pince declared, descending on their table with a frown and a heavily furrowed brow. "Or you'll have to leave the library!"

Hermione offered a tight smile and a nod to the librarian. Malfoy shook his head.

* * *

"It's the fourth rune!" Hermione insisted, waving her sheets in his face.

"Fifth, Granger, honestly," Malfoy drawled, leaning back against the wall of the empty classroom they had commandeered. "These two runes here are shown in reverse, but in reading and translating them together, they are re-ordered. It's like certain aspects of French grammar."

Hermione folded her legs beneath her, peering closer at his tidy script. "Damnit, you're right."

"Of course I'm right," he snickered, flashing her a tight grin. "I'm always –"

"Don't bloody say it."

* * *

Hermione pressed her fingertips to her temples as she stared up at the growing wall of Umbridge's Educational Decrees. It was growing increasingly difficult to get Dumbledore's Army together, especially with Malfoy and his pesky Inquisitorial Squad on the prowl.

But he hadn't asked her to give up any information on their meetings, and so she hadn't wanted to deal with the fallout of bothering him over his useless squad of lackeys.

It was as if they had reached an unspoken agreement to keep any decreased animosity between them runes-related. And on the rare occasion they had discussed things beyond classwork, it had been things of little consequence.

Which didn't include the war, the Order of the Phoenix, the Death Eaters, or house politics. Hermione had also refrained from mentioning Slytherin's embarrassing loss at the hands of Hufflepuff the week before.

They also didn't acknowledge one another outside of class or their private research sessions.

It would be a headache neither of them were looking for.

Her eyes caught on a flash of platinum blond passing through the hallway and his grey eyes flickered up in surprise to meet hers. His gaze followed her focus to the growing field of plaques hanging on the wall and he frowned.

"Chin up, Granger," Malfoy muttered as he walked past.

Hermione stared after him even once he had turned the corner.

* * *

They had received top marks.

"Unsurprising," Malfoy drawled in an undertone when Professor Babbling returned their graded efforts. "As if anyone could have surpassed the two of us?"

Hermione stared down at the desk and smiled.

"Granger," he murmured, glancing up at her after the class wrapped up for the day. "Snuck into Hogsmeade last night."

He slid a fresh pack of sugar quills across the table towards her.

Hermione stared at the offering in disbelief, and by the time she had regained the sense to thank him he had already stood and swung his bag over his shoulder. He offered her a crooked grin. "I know you like them and all."

Hermione nodded, slipping them into her bag. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

The following Ancient Runes class, Malfoy slid into his usual seat beside Hermione, despite the assignment being completed, along with their forced partnership. She turned to him with surprise, and a small murmur went up among the class.

"What?" he snapped, loud enough for his voice to carry. "It's the only bloody seat open, isn't it?"

Hermione was the only one who caught the twitch to his lips as he spread his supplies across the table.

* * *

"Where the fuck were you on Thursday?" Malfoy asked, raising a delicate brow, even as his hand flew across his parchment. "Just because we're done with the assignment doesn't mean you're off the hook."

Hermione released a sharp huff of a breath and grinned.

"Next Thursday, then," she said.

"Damn straight," Malfoy muttered. "You're one of the only people in this school I can tolerate, you know?"

"Yeah," Hermione whispered. "I know."

* * *

"What's this?" he drawled, glancing up from his work with a raised brow.

"OWL study timetable," Hermione replied, dismissive, as she folded her arms across her chest. "This is what I will be following."

"OWLs aren't for two months." Malfoy rolled his eyes, even as a smirk came to his lips. "But I'm not surprised."

His gaze skimmed the colour-coordinated schedule, his eyes widening slightly. "You don't intend to have a social life for the rest of the year, do you?"

"No," Hermione clipped. "The back of the page gives a rough schedule of when I'll be working alone in the library."

Malfoy sighed and set the sheet down. "I'll clear up another night or two each week. Can't let you take the top mark in  _every_  class without a challenge, can I?"

Hermione smiled. "You can certainly try."

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione worried her lower lip as she stared at him, pacing the room, while he carded a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about your dad."

"My father made his bed," he bit out. "Are  _you_  alright? What spell did that imbecile Dolohov hit you with?"

"I didn't recognize it," Hermione admitted. "But it seems to be alright now."

"Fuck, Granger." Malfoy stopped pacing, turning to her with an irritated stare. "You can't just run off into trouble like that, squaring off against fully trained Death Eaters. You're going to get yourself killed and then who's going to keep me sane, hmm?"

"No one," Hermione whispered, her lips twitching. "You'll grow more and more crazy, only it'll be slow, and no one will catch it in time, until you're full-blown bonkers and it's too late for you –"

"And that will be your fault." He pointed at her.

Hermione snickered and smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay, Granger."

"Thanks, Malfoy." Her brow furrowed. "I hope nothing happens because of your dad failing to get the prophecy."

"Me too," he said with a grimace. "But I honestly have no idea. It won't be good." He sat down beside her, his shoulder nearly close enough to touch hers, and glanced over. He ran a hand through his pale hair. "What a year it's been."

Holding her breath, Hermione nudged him with her shoulder; he didn't move away. "Yeah," she agreed, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall ahead. "I hope you have a nice summer, Malfoy."

She thought he might have pressed a little closer, though it could have just been a shift in his position. "You know I'll owl you, Granger."

Her lips tugged up as she nodded.

* * *

**July, 1996**

_Granger_

_I'm going insane, and you need to help before I become full-blown bonkers. I've exchanged some currency in private the last time I was at Diagon Alley with Mother. For the love of Merlin, explain to me how the Muggle transit works? You might need to meet me halfway._

_DM_

Hermione smiled as she folded the letter and offered his owl a treat while it waited, expecting a reply. Despite that it had only been two weeks since the beginning of summer, his letters had grown increasingly anxious.

_Malfoy_

_I can't in good conscience allow you to go full-blown bonkers. I'll arrange a train ticket for you from Wiltshire to London, this coming Tuesday at two o'clock. You'll only need to arrive at the Swindon station in Wiltshire slightly before then. Do you think you can manage?_

_I'll meet you at the south side of Hyde Park. Once in London, you'll need to take the Bakerloo Line to Piccadilly Circus, and then transfer to the Piccadilly Line and disembark at Hyde Park Corner. I have faith in you._

_Chin up, Malfoy!_

_Hermione_

* * *

"Only  _you_  would wear a shirt and tie to a  _park_  in Central London." Hermione chuckled when she saw him, looking disheveled but grinning. She rolled her eyes. "You're crooked."

She reached up to sort out his tie, running her fingers along the smooth grey silk. His gaze met hers as he stared down at her.

"I've missed you, Granger," he said once she stepped back. "Now  _that's_  something I never thought I'd hear myself say."

Hermione gave him an absent smile. "I've missed you too, Malfoy. And all your sarcasm."

"You would pick a park to rival the Forbidden Forest," he said, shaking his head as he stared at the trees all around. "Let's walk. You won't believe the sort of nonsense that's been going on."

He was silent as they ventured into the park, Hermione looking at him every few steps. "Are you alright?"

Malfoy cast her a sidelong glance; there was a tightness to his eyes that she didn't care for. "Not really."

He tugged her to a secluded part of the park, his fingers curled around her wrist, sitting in the grass and leaning back against the trunk of a tree. Hermione frowned at his nice shirt, but dropped into a cross-legged position beside him.

Finally Malfoy turned to her. "Granger, you have to promise me you aren't going to say anything to anyone about what I'm going to tell you. Not Potter, not Weasley, not  _Dumbledore_. No one. Alright?"

"Alright," Hermione said, bracing herself for whatever he had to say.

Even so, his gaze fixed on the ground and he tugged at a few tall strands of grass. "He's angry… because my father failed his mission." His eyes met hers for a brief moment before flickering away. "I overheard Mother talking to my Aunt Bellatrix the other day – he wants me to join him as a replacement. He has… some sort of  _task_  for me."

"Malfoy," Hermione gasped, even as terror clutched at her heart and she shook her head. "You can't."

"I may not have a choice," he said. Hermione could see the resignation already within his eyes.

"There's always a choice," she whispered, shaking her head. "You can talk to the Order – they'll protect you. If you join him –"

"And then what, Granger? Abandon my mother?" His tone was sharp, his brow heavy.

Malfoy turned away, releasing a harsh breath. "If I go to the Order, my mother will be killed. I may as well cast the curse myself, because there's not a doubt in my mind what will happen."

"They can protect your mother, too," Hermione said, her voice growing feeble. "There are safe houses, and things…"

He sighed, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "I've already thought of all this, Hermione. If I want to hide away for the rest of the war, and my mother – which she won't, by the way – but even then, my father? If my mother and I were to disappear, they would kill  _him_  and – I don't know what to do, Granger."

Hermione stared at him, the abject horror only growing in her chest.

He chuckled, a cold, dispassionate sound. "The worst part is that I grew up believing in all this bullshite – but now to see his designs of pureblood supremacy put into action – it makes me sick."

Hermione felt her shoulders sag as she caught the dull hopelessness in his eyes. She breathed, "I could help you. What if you… I don't know, informed for the Order?"

"Too much risk," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "If I were found out, again, I'm dead, my mother's dead – there isn't an option here, Granger."

She fixed him with a stern glare. "There's always an option. And I'm not going to stand seeing that bloody awful snake on your arm."

"Self-preservation has always been my go-to, Granger, you should know that by now," he muttered, interlocking his fingers behind his head. "If this is how I survive, then maybe I just get in, keep my head down, and hope something goes wrong inside. And if I don't survive, then at least I know I wouldn't have survived if I had defected either."

"Don't!" Hermione hissed. "You're going to survive – we're  _both_  going to survive whatever comes of this all."

"I have a feeling," he said, and fixed her with a long stare. "Whatever this task is – I'm not meant to pull it off. I think this is my father's punishment."

Hermione shook her head, feeling the hot sting of moisture at the corners of her eyes. Frustrated, she pawed at the tears threatening to make themselves known. "That isn't going to happen. Because who will keep me sane, then?"

"No one," he said, and one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "You'll just go slowly bonkers."

"If I can help you," Hermione said, steeling herself with a deep breath. "Provided it isn't evil or something – I will."

"I appreciate that, Granger," he said, scowling half-heartedly at the ground, picking at the grass again. "But I think evil is sort of the point here. In fact, I won't be surprised if you don't want anything to do with me this year."

He glanced up, meeting her gaze for a moment. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he continued, "Which would be a shame."

Hesitant, Hermione's hand caught his where it was resting on the ground. She breathed, "I think it's going to take more than you being forced to do something against your will to get rid of me. But nice try."

Malfoy stared at her hand for a long moment, before rotating his in the grass and locking his fingers with hers. He swallowed, his grey eyes meeting hers again, before he said, "I was hoping you'd say that."

The warmth of his hand tingled in her fingers and raced up the length of her arm; she felt her face heat up at the look in his eyes.

"I think," she said, unable to tear her gaze from his, "you're going to need a friend this year."

"Right," he drawled, his tone low, "probably. You could be my friend. Or, you know..."

Malfoy tugged on her hand that he still held, and Hermione stumbled onto her knees, stabilizing just before she fell forward into his chest. He slid his free hand into her curls, and she found herself grabbing hold of his face, leaning in as his lips caught hers in a brief kiss.

He released a sharp exhale and kissed her again, and Hermione's hands snaked into his pale hair as she kissed him back, tentative at first; her tongue flicked out to meet the seam of his lips and he tugged her closer still, his tongue darting out to catch hers.

Malfoy's hand settled on her back as he kissed her harder; Hermione's heart raced within her chest, her blood pounding in her ears as his touch awoke something within her with which she wasn't entirely familiar.

So when he drew back, grey eyes darkened and heated, his chest heaving a little, Hermione smiled and caught her lower lip between her teeth.

"Right," she agreed, breathless, "or that."

He smirked, his fingers tracing patterns along her spine while his other hand found hers again. "Okay, then."

* * *

"What are we doing here?" Hermione asked, gazing beyond the outskirts of Wiltshire. Draco sidled up alongside her, his grey eyes sparkling with something that made her nervous.

With a furtive glance behind him, he tugged a broom out from within a nearby bush.

"Don't even think about it," Hermione breathed, wide-eyed.

"Sure," he said, grinning. "You're coming flying with me. We aren't going to the Manor, don't worry."

"Good," Hermione said, "I can't imagine your mother will take us well."

"I don't believe Mother would mind," he said with a shrug. "It's my Aunt Bellatrix – and she seems to be around more often than not these days." He cast her a furtive glance. "You don't want to meet Bellatrix."

A shudder passed the length of Hermione's spine at the wary tone to his voice.

"But honestly, Mother's best off not knowing too much, either. He's an excellent  _Legilimens_."

"The way things are in the wizarding world, currently," Hermione breathed, "it's probably best to keep this quiet anyway."

Draco nodded, even as his hand slipped into hers. "It's just temporary anyway, right? Until all of this gets cleared up… someday."

"Right." Hermione gave his hand a squeeze.

"So," he said, casting her a sidelong glance as he held the broom steady, "get on."

"Not a chance." She raised a challenging brow.

"Get on the damn broom, Granger," he drawled, turning to face her. "You won't fall. Promise."

Hermione glanced at him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. She rolled her eyes and mounted the broom, even as she trembled at the thought of being so high in the air.

"I'm trusting you," she whispered as he climbed on behind her, his warm chest tight against her back, and a different sort of shiver chased through her. His breath was hot on her neck as he snaked an arm around her waist.

"Good." He tugged her earlobe between his teeth and with a low chuckle, he kicked off from the ground and the broom shot up into the air.

Hermione stifled a scream on the realization that he held her tightly enough that if she fell, she'd be taking him with her. Forcing her breathing to steady, she settled back against his chest and he adjusted his grip so that he held her even closer.

"It's stunning," she whispered as she stared out at the rolling hills of the countryside, lit in brilliant shades of orange and gold with the setting of the sun.

Draco snickered in her ear. "Didn't I tell you that?"

* * *

"I'm going to stay with Ron's family next week for the rest of the summer since my parents are going on holiday to Marseille," Hermione explained, catching a drip running down the edge of her ice cream cone.

Draco scowled but didn't say anything.

"I'll owl you when I can," she said with a glance at the brooding blond. "Oh come on, they won't very well expect me to stay at home by myself, will they?"

He shrugged and took of bite out of his cone. It was Hermione's favourite Muggle ice cream parlour – and the best part was the fact that no one would see them there together, so they didn't need to hide.

Hermione stared at him until he looked up with a huff, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"My parents leave two days before I do. You could come over."

Draco nodded, his eyes widening. "I'll be there."

* * *

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, burrowing into Draco's chest as he sat beside her on the couch at her parents' house.

It had been a strange sight – Draco Malfoy, in her parents' sitting room. Posh and proper on the floral upholstery. She had nearly giggled, except for the fact that she knew how anxious he was growing about his marking and upcoming task.

"Nervous as hell," he clipped. He glanced at her with a grimace, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I can't believe you're still here with me."

Hermione stared at him, her brow furrowing. "This isn't what you want."

"Right."

"Then I'm not leaving you to deal with it alone."

He frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I think we both know I don't deserve you."

"Cut that out," Hermione murmured. "If this is our last time together before we go back to Hogwarts and have to face  _who knows_  what, let's enjoy it, yeah?"

"Right," he said, with a sigh. His lips twitched. "What did you have in mind?"

Hermione smiled. "Have you ever seen a movie?"

* * *

"Okay wait, these aren't real lions? What's the point of this, then?"

"It's animation," Hermione said, smiling. "And the  _point_  is entertainment. Wizards could stand to learn a few things from Muggles about how to tell a proper children's story."

Draco rolled his eyes but settled back against the couch, one arm slung around Hermione, and one ankle bent across his other knee.

"The dad dies!" he exclaimed, outraged, "this is for  _children_?"

Hermione fired him a look and nodded, her brow furrowing as she watched Simba say goodbye to his father, Mufasa. "Just watch, would you?"

His brows flickered but he fell silent for a while. Until –

"There is no way a  _lion_  would befriend a warthog and a meerkat," he scoffed, shaking his head. "And now they're singing!"

"Draco?" Hermione asked, leaning in.

"What?" he bit out. "This is completely unrealistic!"

Hermione smiled, and sang, quietly, " _Hakuna Matata._ "

Draco huffed an irritated breath through his nose, shaking his head at her.

Hermione glanced over when the movie finished and Draco was looking away, a suspicious furrow to his brow. He chewed on his tongue and a wrinkle came to the bridge of his nose.

"What did you think?" she asked, nudging him in the side.

"It was fine." He pursed his lips and sniffled. "Stupid bloody lions, you know?"

"I know."

As Hermione stared at him, his eyes a bit watery, she smiled. It was such a simple thing – watching a movie together – but as she realized it was to be their last carefree time together before returning to Hogwarts – the smile slid from her face.

She grasped his free hand and tugged it into hers. His eyes slid to follow the movement, and then met her own. His head tilted, as if reading her thoughts, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Things are going to be different this year, Granger," Draco said, his voice quiet. "I just feel it. I don't want you to look at me and see a monster."

He swallowed, glancing away.

"I don't," she breathed. "I'm with you, Draco. Just promise me, no matter what happens, you'll come to me if you need to get out, okay? Promise me things between us won't change."

He stared at her for a long moment, until the tension grew and hung heavy between them. "The rest of my summer is probably going to be a nightmare. I'm not going to drag you into anything, Granger. And if it comes down to that –"

"If it comes down to it, I'll get you out," she hissed. "I don't care what it takes – or if your whole bloody family has to go underground –"

"Granger," Draco sighed, and she abruptly closed her mouth. He pressed his eyes shut for a long beat, and Hermione forgot to breathe. "I can't see you hurt. Whatever that means, in the future. I'd sooner walk away, if it means keeping you safe." She could see in his eyes, the words he didn't say –  _safe from him_.

Hermione released a harsh breath. "It won't come to that."

"Merlin willing," he muttered, and Hermione could see the strain, tight around his eyes. She wished there was something she could do. His head dropped against the back of the couch and he released a long breath that spoke the volumes his words couldn't.

"We'll deal with all that when the time comes," Hermione breathed, shifting to straddle his lap.

"I need you to know something, Granger," Draco said, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. "I need you to know I care about you. In case anything ever happens to make you doubt that – and please know that will never change."

"Draco," Hermione whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears. "I care about you, too. And  _that_  will never change, either. Because I know you." She pressed a hand against his chest and he nodded.

He pulled her against him, burying a hand in her hair, and Hermione felt the sentiment strumming through her veins as his tongue met hers, his teeth catching her lower lip, his hands sweeping her back and sides.

And her eyes fell shut, and just for a while, Hermione allowed herself to succumb to the feel of  _him_.


	2. Chapter 2

**September, 1996**

Hermione frowned and folded her arms across her chest when Draco walked into their particular abandoned classroom after the welcoming feast, adjusting his Slytherin tie around his throat.

A smirk began to rise to his lips but Hermione scowled and he faltered.

"You  _broke_  Harry's nose?" she exclaimed, stepping forward, her eyes flashing.

Draco rolled his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek. "He shouldn't have hidden in my compartment."

Hermione gaped at him, shaking her head. "That doesn't mean you –"

"You're right, I've just been on edge," he sighed. "I shouldn't have, but Potter's fine." He tilted his head, a slow smile on his lips, and Hermione thawed slightly. "I missed you."

Her shoulders slumped and she allowed him to take her into his arms. "I missed you, too. Like crazy."

She took his left forearm in her hands and unbuttoned the cuff, rolling his sleeve up. Her face remained impassive as she took in the dark brand that now adorned his previously unmarked skin.

She glanced up, meeting his eyes. Her voice broke as she whispered, "Are you okay?"

"No." He swallowed and averted his gaze. "But I don't have time to get into it right now. Tomorrow after dinner?"

"Was it terrible?" Hermione wasn't certain she was breathing.

"It was…" he shook his head. "Worse than I could have imagined. All I wanted was to get out and see you. In the week leading up, probably a hundred times, I nearly ran. But..."

"Your mother," Hermione finished for him. "I'm so sorry, Draco." She reached with tentative fingers towards the brand but he flinched and tore his arm away.

"It feels wrong, you even seeing it," he muttered, shaking his head. "The less you know about any of it, the safer you'll be."

Draco rolled his sleeve back down and secured the cuff once more. He draped his arms around Hermione's shoulders, burying his face in her hair and inhaling her scent. She reached around his back and relaxed into his hold.

Finally Hermione murmured, into his chest, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"You're here now." He drew back slightly, pressing his lips against hers. "I've got to go. Tomorrow?"

Hermione released him, catching his hand as she dropped hers and entwining their fingers. "Tomorrow."

* * *

"So what's the task?" Hermione asked, breezing into the classroom.

Draco eyed her for a moment before looking away, leaning back against the wall. She settled at his side, folding her legs.

"I can't tell you."

"Of course you can," Hermione said, her brow furrowing. "I want to help you if you need, Draco."

He ran his hands through his hair. "It isn't good. And the less you know, the better."

Hermione nudged him in the side, catching his hand with her own. "If it's  _that_  bad –"

"If it's that bad, I'll let you know," Draco said, his tone soft. "I might not even be able to figure part of it out, to be honest. And I'll just have to tell him so."

Hermione felt a shiver creep down her spine at his casual mention of the subject. But she could see the tension in his jaw and decided not to push the matter.

She dropped her head against his shoulder and he tugged her closer. "If you need anything, please let me know?"

"I will," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"And you know," Hermione said, staring at the hard floor upon which they were sitting. "There's a hidden room on the seventh floor that can be anything you need it to be. We really ought to meet up there rather than here."

Draco gazed at the floor for a long moment, his brow furrowed with consideration. "Good idea."

* * *

He stared at her, a tired smile on his face. Hermione glanced up from her homework, her hand halting as she returned the smile. "Have you been sleeping alright?"

"Fine," he replied, the skin around his eyes tightening. "As good as can be expected."

"Right," Hermione said. "You look exhausted."

"A little," Draco replied, rubbing a hand down his face. He took her hand, entwining their fingers. "Come sit on the couch with me?"

Hermione glanced down at her half-completed essay, and her gaze drifted back to the purple bruises beneath his eyes. "For a while."

He tugged her across the Room of Requirement and Hermione settled into his arms against his chest. She allowed her eyes to flutter and bask in his warmth; she leaned in, pressing her lips against his.

Five minutes later when she glanced over at him, his eyes were shut with sleep, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips.

* * *

"Harry's watching you, you know," Hermione said, wrapping her arms around the back of Draco's shoulders as he worked. "Whatever you're doing – be careful."

"I'm careful," Draco sighed, his eyes rolling. "Potter can mind his own."

Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. "Well clearly, whatever it is, it's driving you into the ground."

"I can't tell you, Hermione," Draco grit through his teeth, "and if you keep asking, I won't know what to do. I'm trying to protect you."

"I don't need to be protected," Hermione frowned. "Maybe I can help you –"

"You can't," he clipped.

Hermione huffed, peeling away from him and sinking into the seat opposite him at the workbench. She pulled her work from her bag, with more aggression than intended. Draco sighed.

"I know you can protect yourself, Hermione," he said, his voice soft. "But how do I make sure you're protected from me?"

Hermione looked up, feeling some of the ire drain from her blood at his words. She whispered, "I wish that didn't have to be a consideration."

"So do I," he said, his grey eyes meeting hers. "Believe me, I wish none of this was happening."

Hermione frowned, feeling a bitter tug in her chest. "How do we get past this, Draco?"

He shook his head. "I don't know."

* * *

Hermione could feel his eyes on her as she worked at their table in the Room of Requirement. She glanced up, setting her quill down.

He pursed his lips, his brows knitting together. "Can I teach you something?"

Hermione blinked. "Teach me what?"

"Occlumency," he said, his tone tentative. "I'd like you to learn to block your thoughts from invaders."

"Are you an Occlumens?" Hermione asked, fixing him with her full attention.

Draco nodded. "And a Legilimens. My mother taught me." He hesitated for a moment, staring at a spot on the table. "If anything ever happens, or if I get into trouble… I don't want anyone to learn how important you are to me. Because you'll be a target, and I can't live with that."

Hermione frowned, her heart rate escalating. "Are you in trouble, Draco?"

He scratched his neck, jaw clenched. "No. I don't know."

She scowled, shaking her head. "That isn't very encouraging." She took his hand across the table. "Will you  _please_  let me talk to someone? It doesn't have to be Dumbledore, but maybe Lupin or McGonagall –"

" _No_ , Hermione." He shook his head, his lips forming a tight line. "I'm not going to the Order."

"Then why bother!" Hermione said, frustrated. "What do we gain by you teaching me Occlumency? Where is this even going?"

"The reason why I'm  _bothering_ , Hermione," Draco said – his face sank as he stared at her – "is because I love you."

Hermione froze, her eyes snapping to meet his at the sudden declaration. Her heart chased against the inside of her chest as she stared at him. He tossed the hair from his eyes and worried his lower lip.

"And I don't know where this is going," he continued, his voice soft, "but I'd like for us to one day find out. And it might not be until all of this is over – but everything I'm doing right now is in an effort to keep us both  _alive_ , so that we might have that chance."

Hermione swallowed, her mouth dry.

Draco shifted in his seat. "You don't have to feel the –"

He was cut off as Hermione leaned across the table, catching his lips in a searing, desperate kiss. She breathed, against his mouth, "I love you too, Draco."

She kissed him again, and when she drew back, the first trace of a smile she'd seen in ages was on his lips. "I want this to survive. I want  _us_  to make it through. So that's a yes to Occlumency."

"Good," he said, giving her a genuine smile and another kiss. "We'll get started tomorrow."

* * *

Hermione paced the Room of Requirement, growing more nervous by the minute as she waited for Draco to arrive for their regular meeting. While they couldn't see one another every day without drawing suspicion, she lived for the evenings when they could both get away.

She wiped her palms on the thighs of her jeans.

It had taken a couple of weeks, but she had managed to develop her Occlumency to the point where Draco couldn't break into her mind anymore. He seemed to be satisfied, and his spirits had been higher than they had been all year, despite that he still carried the weight of a sort of permanent fatigue.

Finally he walked into the room, pausing mid-step as he took in the way Hermione had rearranged their study room.

"What's this?" he asked as he approached, sweeping the fringe from his temples.

Hermione met his gaze, fearing if she glanced at the bed behind her, she'd lose her nerve.

"I just thought…" she trailed off, unable to hold his stare. "You might want to –"

"Hermione, are you sure?" Draco asked, scratching the back of his neck.

"Yes," she said, quickly. "If you want to."

"Of course I –" he scoffed, shaking his head. "Have you ever had sex before?"

"No," Hermione said, her voice soft.

Draco's head tilted as he stared at her, his eyes searching hers. "Neither have I."

"I wanted…" she cleared her throat. "I want it to be you."

He took a step towards her, shaking his head. "Merlin, Granger, it'll always be you."

He caught her lips with his, kissing her with an intensity he rarely possessed, and Hermione sunk into his arms, her fingers trembling as they fumbled with his tie.

Draco undressed her with care, his hands reverent as he touched her, and there was a promise in his eyes that nearly brought Hermione to tears.

And when he entered her, slow and cautious, Hermione released a sharp intake of breath; his brow furrowed as he stared down at her. After a moment she nodded and smiled – the way he filled her felt  _right_  and Hermione knew that – no matter what else – he was her one.

He pulled her into his arms, after, pressing a kiss to her temples, and Hermione allowed her eyes to flutter shut as, for the first time, she fell asleep in his arms, feeling like there was no place she'd rather be.

* * *

There were certain times, if Hermione tried hard enough, she could forget how big of a mess her life had become.

That her boyfriend hadn't been forced into some sort of ominous task that was too dangerous for her to know about. That she had to keep said boyfriend secret for the sake of their joint safety. That he was – quite literally – on the opposing side of a brewing war.

That she was in love, and it was completely impractical, and she couldn't even tell anyone.

But there was a part of her – a small part, that she had kept largely suppressed for so many years – that glowed in the feel of being  _loved_. That carried faith, and a hope, that they would one day see each other through the worst of these things.

That there might be an  _other side_.

But there was a different part – a louder part – that screamed at her to  _open her eyes_.

She pushed it back, swallowing back the fear and the trepidation and the utter terror that things would go badly. That the  _other_  side of things may not even exist after all.

"What's got you so happy today?" Harry asked, taking a bite of his toast. "And where were you last night?"

"Fell asleep in the library again," Hermione said, forcing a facetious chuckle.

Harry snickered and rolled his eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

* * *

Draco lay beside her, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his fingers tapping an anxious pattern against her bare back. Her eyes caught the dark bags beneath his, growing worse despite their occasional nights spent together.

Maybe he still wasn't sleeping.

"Is everything okay, Draco?" she whispered.

He glanced over, his gaze unseeing, before he focused on her. "Of course."

"With the task – is something going wrong?"

He stared at the ceiling again, a tension to his jaw that was never a good sign. "Not wrong. I just need to…  _try harder_."

"Draco," Hermione sighed. He shook his head. "Are you in danger?"

He clicked his teeth together as his mouth opened and then closed. He glanced at her and away, the anxious tapping against her back escalating. "I can't lie to you, Hermione."

"You need to get out," she hissed. "Please!"

"And leave my mother to die?" Draco asked, his tone deceptively light. "No, that isn't an option."

"We can get your mother out too," Hermione insisted, the hot sting of tears prickling at her eyes. "I can't keep seeing you put yourself through this."

He kept his gaze focused on the roof. "I don't want to put  _you_  through any of this, Hermione." He swallowed, and Hermione watched his throat bob. "Maybe we need to… take some time apart. Until this goes one way or the other. This task."

"The other way being?" Hermione asked, fixing him with a glare.

He blinked several times. "I don't want to hurt you. But if I fail..."

There was an ominous, hopeless desperation in his words that let the tears spring forth from her eyes.

"Don't you  _dare_  leave me alone, Draco Malfoy."

Draco turned to her, then, the hurt visible in his eyes at the tears streaming down her cheeks. He brushed them away with one hand. "I'd do anything to keep you safe, Hermione. Even if it means doing exactly that."

Hermione shook her head, even as she burrowed deeper into his chest. "I love you."

"I love you," he echoed. "Please remember what I told you over the summer. That no matter what happens, that isn't ever going to change."

She wished she could believe him.

* * *

"Don't tell me you had anything to do with Katie nearly dying!" Hermione exclaimed, eyes flashing as she stormed in the Room of Requirement.

Draco was on the couch, his eyes bloodshot, staring at the floor. "I won't tell you."

He looked worse than she had ever seen him. Hermione backed away, feeling terror clutch at her heart. "Draco,  _please_  let me help you."

"You can't," he whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. "I can't get out. He'll kill me, and my parents."

"Draco, for the love of Merlin!" Hermione cried, clenching her hands into fists as she paced. " _Let me_  help you!"

"You can't!" he snapped, looking up at her. "Stay out of it, Hermione, please."

"What are you even trying to do," she choked, shaking her head as her heart crumbled painfully in her chest. "If you hate him so much, why won't you at least attempt to get out?"

"Because it'll mean my mother dies," he clipped. "And if you think he's going to just let me walk, without killing me too –"

"I'm not going to let you die!"

Her words rang out through the tension; he fixed her with a dull stare, and his eyes drifted to the ceiling. "I'm afraid that won't be within your power."

Hermione sagged, collapsing on the couch beside him, tears breaking from her eyes. She whispered, "Then what can I do?"

Draco stared at her for so long that she grew anxious, fidgeting with the sleeve of her jumper. His fingertips trailed along her spine and he frowned. "You need to forget about me, Hermione. I'm not going to put you through any more of this."

"Draco," she whispered, shaking her head, " _no_."

"It's for the best," he breathed, and Hermione noticed his eyes were shimmery with moisture. "And maybe one day – if you can forgive me –" he cut himself off, blinking, a watery glaze to his eyes. "I have to believe there's a better future for you than  _this_."

Hermione felt the tears flow from her eyes, felt the crushing, soul-numbing shatter of her heart; she stared through him, her gaze unseeing. Her heart pounded a desperate, broken rhythm and she vaguely registered him swiping at his eyes.

"Please," she gasped, "don't do this."

"I don't want to, Hermione," he said, taking her hand. "But I can't do this to you anymore. And I would sooner you hate me and be alive –"

Throwing aside all rational thought, and abandoning the anger with which she had walked through the door, Hermione collapsed into his shoulder, her endless tears ruining his shirt.

* * *

Hermione chewed her lip as she sat through another re-telling of the heroic and harrowing tale in which Harry had saved Ron from an impromptu poisoning.

While it had been terrifying at the time to hear that Ron had nearly died – the story had lost much of its impact after Hermione had sat through it a dozen times.

She picked at her dinner, devoid of an appetite, and her gaze floated across the Great Hall. Her heart twinged in her chest as she caught a familiar flash of platinum blond in her periphery, and despite her consistent efforts to push Draco from her mind, her eyes met his.

His expression was careful and blank – but Hermione knew him better than that.

She frowned, a furrow to her brow; his grey eyes were empty as he stared back.

* * *

"You did  _what_?!" Hermione exclaimed, her eyes wide as she jumped to her feet. Her heart began racing in an instant, her blood roaring in her ears. Her mind buzzed with terror, a living and palpable thing.

"I didn't know the spell would do that," Harry grumbled, but Hermione shook her head in mute horror. "He's fine, I think, Snape did some spell."

Hermione collapsed to her seat, lost for words.

Draco was injured – Draco had been nearly killed.  _By her best friend_.

She forced her breathing to steady as she turned to Harry, frowning. "I told you that Prince was a rotten character, and now look what's happened."

"Yeah," Harry said, "and now I've got detention."

Hermione fumed, silent; he had nearly killed the  _love of her life_  and was complaining about a resultant detention.

"You deserve it," Hermione snapped, unable to control herself. "What if you would have killed Malfoy!"

Harry shrugged but had the grace to look sheepish.

Hermione pressed her lips together in an effort to stop herself from saying anything more on the subject. "Harry, do you think I could borrow the Marauder's Map tonight? I need to visit the library late and Filch has been ruthless lately."

"Yeah, of course," Harry said, blinking. "I'll go grab it."

Hermione clenched her jaw and nodded.

Later that night she crept through the abandoned halls of Hogwarts, wand tip alight and held before her while she kept one eye on the map to be sure she wasn't going to be caught out of bed. Ensuring Madam Pomfrey had left the Hospital Wing for the night, Hermione released the wards and crept inside, tugging the hangings around Draco's bed shut before she cast a silencing spell.

She tucked the Map away and sunk into the chair beside his bed; his face was paler than usual, even with the cold glow of the moon filtering through the high window, and he was wrapped in bandages; a collection of potions sat at his bedside.

His eyes fluttered open and he blinked several times, his lips parted.

"Hermione," he whispered, his voice hoarse. "You shouldn't be here."

"I know," Hermione breathed, her gaze darting to the slight gap in the privacy hangings. "I just needed to know you were okay."

Draco stared at her for a long moment, his head tilted. "I'm okay."

Hermione shook her head. "I can't believe Harry's done this."

He scowled but glanced away; his jaw tightened as he swallowed. "I miss you."

"I miss you too, Draco," she whispered, blinking. "More than you know."

He shook his head, fidgeting with his covers. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a furrow rising to his brow. "I don't know that I'll ever forgive myself for what I've done. I don't think you should, either."

Hermione didn't have an answer for that.

"It's for the best if you let go," Draco murmured, staring at a spot behind her. "If this war goes badly for our side, I'll most likely end up in Azkaban. I don't think…" he ran a hand through his hair. "There isn't anything left here for you, Hermione. I never should have hurt you."

Hermione stared at him, her eyes narrowing in an effort to keep the tears at bay. "You and I don't know what the future will look like."

He breathed, "I know it won't look like the two of us together." His expression was pained. "Just please don't forget what I told you."

"Maybe one day, Draco," Hermione whispered, and he met her gaze, his grey eyes dull.

"Right," he said, forcing a smile. "Maybe." He glanced around. "You should go before someone comes by."

"I love you," she whispered, and Draco blinked, looking away. There was a glossy sheen to his eyes when he turned back to her and nodded.

His fingers fumbled to catch her hand in the dark; his grip was feeble as he gave her hand a squeeze. "I'll never stop, Hermione." Then he released the brief hold and glanced down at the bedding again. "Goodnight."

Releasing a tight breath, Hermione nodded, and with a murmured, "Goodnight," she crept from the Hospital Wing.

* * *

Hermione's world had turned upside down and imploded; her mind was running backwards and in overdrive at once. Nothing made sense. She couldn't believe it – not Dumbledore – not  _Draco_ –

She stared at the great white tomb, gazing but unseeing, Harry and Ron some distance away. The hole left in her heart with Draco's absence from school warred with her conscience.

Would anything have changed if she and Draco had stayed together? If she had said something to someone? The guilt could consume her if she allowed it and she attempted to shake the thoughts from her head.

Harry had said Draco had hesitated – that he was dropping his wand. That he had appeared to consider Dumbledore's words.

So then, maybe – if Snape and the other Death Eaters hadn't showed up –

Hermione swallowed back the bitter taste in her mouth. There was no use dwelling on  _what-ifs_  now. Not when there was so much that needed to be done.

Not knowing what she, along with Harry and Ron, had to face now. The battles they would assuredly face; the struggles that were as of yet unknown. The three of them stepped closer together, sharing a grimace.

Harry had been given this task by Dumbledore. It was on their shoulders to carry on with what he had begun, and for Harry to put an end to Voldemort. It was a cause that exceeded any other. Steeling her countenance with a short nod, Hermione sealed away that last piece of her heart that still clung to her first love.

* * *

**April, 1998**

It had been months since Hermione had seen him. Months of pain and struggle – fights with friends, and fights with enemies.

He looked different, somehow, yet the same. There was something in the set of his jaw; something in the hardness of his grey eyes. His hair was longer and it suited him.

But all Hermione could see, at this moment, was the way Draco's eyes screamed with panic while he stared at her, his hand frozen en route to his wand, and Hermione shook her head despite the pain singing through every one of her nerve endings.

Draco had told her she wouldn't want to meet his Aunt Bellatrix – he had been right.

Hermione blinked into focus, and found Draco's anxious gaze settled, unblinking, on her, even as his face remained carefully blank.

If she looked closely, she could see his hand trembling with the effort to refrain from drawing his wand.

_No_ , Hermione mouthed, blinking away the tears while his aunt looked away.  _Don't._

If it hadn't been for Draco's presence – if it hadn't been for the way his gaze suggested he still cared about her – Hermione didn't know whether she would have still clung to consciousness with such a voracious necessity.

She hadn't come this far to allow Harry and Ron to die. To die, herself.

And Draco hadn't managed this far to give himself up, either.

Hermione winced, surprised there was any response left in her nerves, when Bellatrix cackled and unsheathed a wicked blade.

She heard a sharp hiss from Draco as the blade broke her skin – but luckily the sound was drowned out and swept away in Bellatrix's mirth.

Hermione caught his gaze again, and his eyes shone with moisture. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, and his wand slipped into his hand.

Tears broke from her eyes; pain she could bear, for this cause, but she wouldn't be able to stand seeing what might happen to Draco if he were to make a move against his aunt. There was a stiffness to his shoulders that belied incoming movement, and Hermione wanted to cry out but her throat was shredded from screaming –

But his eyes snapped up and there was chaos – Harry and Ron were there, and – Dobby was with them.

In the flurry of action that followed, Hermione didn't catch sight of him again.

* * *

Smoke, and fire, and a thick haze seared her lungs, lingering from hours before.

There had been an elation to see Draco, alive, replaced quickly with a panic and a mad dash to escape from the Room of Hidden Things.

And while Hermione felt no great sympathy over the loss of Crabbe, especially after the Slytherin had nearly succeeded in killing them all, she knew he had been a childhood friend of Draco's.

She had caught his gaze, once they emerged into the hallway, and she saw relief, mingled with pain. The room in which they had shared so many memories – had now served to nearly extinguish them both.

He had nearly stepped towards her – but Harry still had a mission to complete, and Hermione tore herself away before she could think twice.

She hadn't seen Draco again until the smoke cleared, the ash and dust settled in what remained of the Great Hall.

And despite everything they had been through, everything he had done, Hermione's heart raced with hope and the solace that he had survived and she had survived and –

She found her eyes drifting across the room and her gaze caught on a flash of blond.

Draco stood with his parents, the three of them looking out of sorts and Hermione might have run to him but for the heaviness that surrounded her. They had lost friends and family and Hermione didn't know whether her heart had room for any more devastation.

She caught his eye across the Hall, and watched as he exhaled a long breath. The corners of his lips tugged up into something that might have been a smile, but it vanished as his focus snapped to his father.

But something lingered in the final glance he gave her as he left with his parents – something akin to hope, encouragement, grace – and it left Hermione feeling restless.

* * *

_Five years._

_Five. Years._

The sentence rang out and rattled within Hermione's brain as she stared, tears breaking from her gaze, and all she could see was his white-knuckled fingers as they clenched the seat in the Wizengamot chamber upon which he was sitting.

Chains, the length of his arms and legs, prevented him from moving.

But all Hermione could see was his fingers, as her vision blurred and she found she was whispering under her breath.  _No no no no no –_

For all their testimonies, for the information she had fed Draco's lawyer, and despite that he hadn't done  _anything_  in comparison to some of the life-long Death Eaters.

He would be going to Azkaban, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

She forced her gaze up, and could scarcely see the details of his face through her own tears, but he was frowning, his brow furrowed as he stared at her.

"It's unfair," she whispered, shaking her head in horror, as someone tugged on her arm.

"Come on, Hermione." It was Harry. "We need to go."

"It's so wrong," she whispered, imploring Harry to understand. "He didn't –"

"I know," Harry said, his tone gruff, "but there's nothing more we can do. Malfoy's made his bed and now he'll have to do the time like the rest of them."

She shook her head in fervent denial, and when she looked back Draco was being led away by two Aurors, the magical shackles dragging behind him.

He grimaced as he looked back at her and then he was gone.

* * *

**August, 2003**

Her focus was intense as she held two peaches, one in each hand. Selecting one, Hermione stowed it in the bag with the rest, handing the vendor a paper note, before carrying on through the fresh market.

She kept her attention on the produce as she passed, unwilling to allow her mind to drift.

It had been through a very particular sort of compartmentalization that Hermione had managed to stay in Ronda, since the announcement in  _The Daily Prophet_  two months previous.

Because if she had thought on it for too long, she would have run back to London – and the only thing that likely awaited her there was disappointment and unfulfilled dreams. She didn't know whether she had the mental strength left for that.

Draco had been free from Azkaban from two months and had not owled, or reached out to her in any capacity. There would be nothing to gain if she were to uproot herself with all the spontaneity of a flighty youth, and return to a place that held only painful memories.

And so she had remained in Spain, going about her business, only with a far more concerted effort to fix her attention on her usual routine.

She was the sole proprietor of a small bookshop, after all, and she couldn't simply close the doors and vanish for an undetermined amount of time.

If anything, after five years, Hermione was finally able to seek the closure and resolution she had never been given, after Draco had been taken to Azkaban. She had thought to visit him, at the time, but had never plucked up the nerve – not knowing where they stood anymore – and had shortly thereafter left London for the small Andalusian town.

The last of her purchases complete for the day, Hermione made her way to the exit of the market, nearly stumbling into someone in her inattentiveness.

" _Con permiso_ ," Hermione murmured as she carried on, her gaze fixed ahead.

She faltered a step when a deep voice said, " _perdón, se_ _ñ_ _ora_."

She didn't recognize the voice – but there was something familiar in the tone that caused her to freeze, her heart leaping into her throat as she turned on the spot.

The breath was swept from her lungs at a flash of platinum blond, and her eyes widened as they found themselves caught in a shade of grey she knew so well.

It was Draco Malfoy, in her small Spanish town, and Hermione felt her mouth fall open, her throat dry, as a quick breath escaped her lungs.

He wore a crisp white shirt with a simple grey tie and trousers; his blond hair was longer than it had been in school, and the bone structure of his face had filled out and matured – but it was unmistakable.

His stance was hesitant, his expression carefully blank.

With the belated realization that she was staring, Hermione said, "Hi."

"Hi." His lips twitched. " _You_  are a difficult woman to track down."

Hermione wasn't sure whether she was breathing. "Is that so?"

Draco cocked his head to one side; there was something in his gaze that Hermione hadn't seen before – something darker – something pained. Something, perhaps, that Azkaban had left in his soul.

His voice was soft when he replied, "It is."

"And," she said, swallowing, "why have you tracked me down?"

"Call it unanswered questions," he said, his brows flickering. "Will you join me for a coffee? Or, have you someone who wouldn't appreciate that?"

"No," Hermione responded, blinking. "There isn't anyone."

There was something in his face akin to relief – and it set her heart stammering against the inside of her chest. It might have been reminiscent of hope.

Faltering for a moment, Hermione carried on, "Yes, I'll join you."

There was an unfamiliar tension that hung between them, and Hermione attributed it to the five years he had spent in prison – and the unsettled way things had ended between them in sixth year, which felt like so long ago.

But his lips curved with the faintest hint of a smile and Hermione wanted to kiss him.

"Great," he clipped with a short nod. "Where's good around here?"

"There's a nice bistro down the way in the bookshop," Hermione said with a vague gesture. "They serve the best cup of tea in town."

Draco stared down the road at the idyllic scenery and the rough, cobbled roads that Hermione had come to associate with home. His gaze floated back to land on Hermione, and something in his eyes made her stomach flip. "Sounds perfect."

Hitching her bag around her shoulder, Hermione led him in the direction of the bookshop, her gaze fixed ahead of her while he kept a careful distance. The last thing she needed was to misunderstand his purpose here and allow her hopes to lift without cause.

And besides – they had been so young when they had fallen in love. She didn't even know him anymore.

"This is a beautiful town," Draco said, breaking the tense silence between them. "The mountains and all. I can see why you would have chosen to move here."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "It's lovely. And the people have been very welcoming."

His lips twitched. "It's very…  _Hermione Granger_."

She cast him a sidelong glance, ignoring the shivers that chased her spine at the way her name rolled off his tongue, even now. "How have you been?"

He stared at her as he walked, his face deadpan, and Hermione remembered with a belated and stifled groan, that his time in  _prison_  probably hadn't been very enjoyable.

"The past two months were a whirlwind," he said with a concise clip to his tone. "Prior to that, of course… there were a handful of years that weren't excellent."

They arrived at the bookshop and Hermione hesitated with her hand on the door. "I was sorry… that you had been sentenced. I tried…"

Anything she could say didn't seem substantial enough to make up for the injustice he had faced and so she pressed her lips shut.

"I heard," Draco said, "you were working with my lawyer. I appreciated your efforts."

"Obviously they were insufficient," Hermione said, a flush creeping to her cheeks as she glanced away. Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said, "You were still sentenced to such a long term."

His voice matched hers. "I don't think there was anything anyone could have done to change the Wizengamot's decision. They already knew what was going to happen to me before the trial began."

Hermione breathed, "Was it awful?"

"It wasn't the worst experience of my life," he said, his eyes flickering to the door where her hand was still frozen on the handle. "With the Dementors gone, I was able to keep my mind and my memories. But the guards were terrible all the same."

Swallowing, Hermione pushed open the door and led him into the small cafeteria just off the main entrance of the bookshop. His gaze swept the eclectic decor as she selected a table.

"This is  _also_  very Hermione Granger," he murmured, his grey eyes catching hers. "I can see why you like it."

"Indeed," Hermione said, as a waitress came over with a wide smile.

"Hermione!" the girl exclaimed in a thick Spanish accent. "I wasn't expecting to see you here today."

And it occurred to Hermione in that moment, as the girl's gaze swept to Hermione's unexpected – and handsome – companion, that perhaps she should not have brought Draco to her bookshop.

"Right, Camila, this is Draco," Hermione said with an awkward gesture, realizing she hadn't even said his name, and the word felt foreign on her tongue.

"Hello," Camila said with a coy smile, and she took their order.

Draco turned to Hermione after the girl had walked away, shaking his head. "I can't believe it even took me this long. You own this place, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione said with a smile.

He was staring at her with a gaze that made her insides twist again. "So you finished Hogwarts, moved to Spain, opened a bookstore –"

"I didn't finish my NEWTs," Hermione whispered, making a face. "I meant to, and I made the arrangements to return…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "I couldn't manage it. And I just left."

He swallowed, staring at her. "Why?"

Her mouth felt dry. "Why do you think?"

"Hermione," he breathed, a furrow coming to his brow as he released a sharp exhale. "It's been a long time." He scratched the back of his neck as he glanced around the shop. "If I could go back and change things –"

"It's fine," Hermione said, holding up a hand.

"It isn't fine, it's important," he said, his voice soft. Hermione glanced up and met his gaze. "I should  _never_  had pushed you away, but I was so bloody  _terrified_  you were going to get caught in the middle of things, or  _killed_ , and it was going to be my fault –"

He paused as Camila delivered their drinks with a knowing smile.

"Draco," Hermione choked, her eyes stinging. She took a deep breath. "Neither of us knew what was going to happen back then. If we had stayed together... "

"I've regretted what I did every single day," he said, his eyes wide. "In Azkaban, it was only the memories of you that kept me focused. Even when I wanted to give up hope, when I thought you probably would have moved on, I convinced myself there was still  _some_ small sliver of hope that you might still feel the same."

Her mind was abuzz as his words floated, disjointed, into her brain. She simply stared, her face blank.

Draco ran a hand through his hair, but he wasn't done. "When I was released and I couldn't track you down in London, I figured you had gone on and married – you were out of my reach, and I was prepared to live with that – but then I learned you had moved away."

"I needed to be someplace that didn't remind me of you," Hermione breathed, the words awkward as they fell from her tongue. "I never could quite get past you, Draco."

He swallowed, sorrow heavy in his brow.

"I wish I hadn't left you to wonder for all these years," he said. "And it's selfish of me to say, but I'm glad you never moved on."

"I tried," Hermione whispered, shaking her head. "But I couldn't do it. Not knowing that –  _one day_  – I might get a chance to see you again."

Draco took a sip of his tea, his gaze fixed on her. "I know I probably don't deserve it –" he glanced away, tapping his coaster on the table, "but I would do anything for another chance."

Hermione frowned, even as her stomach flipped and her heart raced. "I've settled my life here… I don't know that I can just go back to London, after all these years."

He looked at her again, deadpan. "I did say  _anything_ , didn't I? I told you, I like this town."

Her heart leapt into her throat. Her voice carried a slight tremble as she said, "You don't even know me anymore."

"I know it's been seven years and I've never stopped loving you." He took another sip of tea, as if his casual statement hadn't imploded her entire universe. "You pulled me through  _five years_  in Azkaban, Hermione, just the memory of you."

Her shoulders sagged with the release of a tension she had carried for so many years. She breathed, "I've missed you every day."

"I don't have much to offer you," Draco said, frowning. "Most of the familial assets were seized when I went to Azkaban, aside from the Manor."

"I don't need anything."

All she cared about, was what he had already offered – his heart. His grey eyes met hers and she nearly broke at what she found within his gaze.

His lips quirked with a hint of a smile and he said, in a melodic sort of lilt, "When the heart of this star-crossed voyager beats in time with yours."

Hermione heard the word he didn't need to say.  _Still_. Her heart seized on a beat.

"You watched it again," she said.

"It was a good movie," he said with a shrug, "even though the lions were completely unrealistic."

"You liked it anyway," Hermione whispered, feeling confused tears sting her eyes.

"I liked it because you liked it," Draco said. "But I loved  _you_ , so –"

"You learned the  _songs_ ," Hermione interrupted, grinning, a smile of relief and hope and promise of a future together.

He smiled too, a slow, searing crooked grin that reached his eyes, for the first time Hermione could remember, and the tears broke with happiness from her eyes.

"I can't believe this," she whispered, swiping at the moisture.

Draco breathed, his expression serious, "I can't believe you waited for me."

Hermione took his hand across the table, weaving her fingers between his. "I don't know that there was ever any other option for me."

He shook his head, a sharp bite of laughter escaping. "I told you, Granger, it would  _always_ be you."

And despite everything they had been through, everything she had watched him struggle with – they had made it out. And there was a chance, now, for them to give it a  _real_  shot, without the dark chains of war hanging over them.

A chance for Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy –  _finally_. His grey eyes sparkled as they met hers.

Her lips tugged into a watery smile. "Come on. I'll show you the town."


End file.
